Peace, Love, And Diagnoses
by Phantom531
Summary: Tritter comes to House with an odd medical condition and, while House is...reluctant to help, his curiosity gets the better of him. Tritter-House snarkiness! Yay! Enjoy! I DON'T OWN ANYTHING
1. Tell Me

House hobbled in to the hospital, trying to deduce exactly where Cuddy would be at that particular moment, mainly for avoidance purposes.

"House!" a voice barked across the room. _Damn_! He ducked his head and tried to shuffle away. A delicate, but deceptively strong hand clamped onto his left elbow like a bear trap.

"You're later than usually, House, where the _hell_ have you been?" Cuddy snarled. He tried to pull away from her, but she dug in, and he could feel his skin actually bruise.

"Most women would have to have sex with me before they sink their claws in," he muttered.

"I don't think so, since after they experience that, who'd _want_ to?" Cuddy snapped, dragging him roughly in the direction of her office.

"No, Mommy, I'll be a good boy! Don't lock me in the scary closet, Mommy!" House wailed as loud as he could, drawing stares from several people. Cuddy threw him into a seat in her office so hard he actually gasped as his leg thumped the side of the chair.

"What the hell, Cuddy?" he snapped, finally angry.

"Why the hell is Tritter here?" she snarled, her large eyes flashing in rage. House blinked.

"How the hell should I know?" he asked, but his shock and dismay showed through his voice.

"You haven't done _anything_ to bring him back here, House?" Cuddy asked, obviously not believing him and obviously still rather angry. There was a warning in her voice he usually discounted and ignored, but he heard it now. She'd lied for him before and would not do it again. House swallowed, actually a tad intimidated for once. Not that he'd really let her know it.

"What can I say, the man must be in love with me. Or Wilson; maybe Tritter just needs a pair of soft, caring, neat-freak arms to lie in?" he quipped. Cuddy's eyes narrowed.

"So why would he be back here? House, if I find out…"

"I didn't do anything, I promise. Hell, I promise I'm promising for real this time," House answered testily. "Maybe he's a glutton for punishment, like that stupid little squirrel in that movie, the one that chases the acorns and gets his head bashed in."

"Oh, God, House, if this is another one of your messes, I will _castrate_ you!"

"And I'd finally get your hands all over my crotch. It's almost tempting!" House chuckled, standing. As he went to leave he came face to face with the aforementioned cop. Tritter stank of cigarettes. Evidently, the nicotine gum he'd been gnawing on before hadn't helped.

"House, just the person I wanted to see," Tritter said coolly. House glared at him and tried to push past him. Tritter grabbed the cane, forcing House off-balance.

"Get off me before I scream rape," House growled, jerking away. Tritter cleared his throat.

"I need your help, House," he said, very quietly. House shrugged.

"There are lots and lots of other doctors you can see. Go see them, they might actually care if you live or die," House mumbled as he left.

* * *

Taub, Kutner, and Thirteen were all frowning at him in puzzlement when he entered the room.

"What?" he snapped. Kutner actually jumped.

"We saw Cuddy dragging you to your office and before there was a cop here looking for you," Kutner babbled. House rolled his eyes.

"He tried to put me in jail, failed, and is bitter. I, however, am a very chipper individual, I get over things. Particularly when I have colleagues who _work_ on _sick people_! Now, who is this sick person?" House said, coldly. Taub and Kutner exchanged glances while Thirteen said nothing.

"What? No one dying this week, is that it? There has to be someone dying! Too bad it isn't this Tritter jackass!" House exclaimed. The three of them sat and stared at him. Actually, Thirteen's eyes were aimed over his shoulder. House sighed and turned around.

"What is your obsession with me? It's really getting quite flattering, but you'll have to be nice and take me to dinner before I sleep with you, Tritter, dear," he said. Tritter cocked his head to the side and regarded House with the same cold face he'd always presented. Except there was something different. Less cold. Actually, almost...pleading? Odd...

"Different team," Tritter said simply.

"What? You think you can intimidate these guys better? Is that why you're here?" House asked. Tritter shook his head slowly. He was silent for a moment.

"House, I actually need your help. I'm…sick, and no other doctors know what the hell is wrong," Tritter said. House scoffed.

"This is too good!" he chuckled. Thirteen glared at him and Kutner stood.

"You're not going to help him?" Kutner asked.

"Sit down, flunkie!" House shouted suddenly. Kutner dropped back into his chair.

"Tell me what you have and I'll tell you what it is," House told Tritter. With a sigh, Tritter unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. His chest was speckled in an odd rash. If it hadn't been on skin attached to the biggest asshole ever created after him, House would have prodded at it. Still, it looked like nothing more than mild poison ivy. He looked up at Tritter expectantly.

"It's everywhere. My body burns and I can't sleep at night. Now you tell me what no other doctors have been able to tell me and I'll go away," Tritter said with a sigh. He didn't seem to be enjoying this any more than House was, at least.

"What other symptoms and for how long?" House asked.

"Fever, burning feeling, aches, pains, for…years. It has never been bad enough to warrant attention," Tritter answered slowly.

"Anything else?" House asked.

"Stomach issues," Tritter answered as an afterthought.

"Probably an ulcer, probably infected, and I'm pretty sure that gum didn't help that any. Now get out," House announced.

"I've been checked, that's not what I have," Tritter protested. House frowned.

"Did they test those pustules?" he asked, nudging a small cluster of red bumps at the edge of the rash.

"They aren't pustules. No one knows what they are. They have no fluid in them or anything," Tritter replied. Now House's interest was piqued.

"Thirteen, get this guy admitted. And don't let him handcuff you, I get to do that first," House said.


	2. Rash and Rows

In the title of this chapter, I mean _row_ like in a fight. There was some apparent confusion in some test readers, but once they figured it out, they liked the title, so I'm keeping it. I guess I just need an explaination.

* * *

House stood outside Tritter's room, staring in at the cop who'd made his life absolutely miserable two years ago. Unfortunately, his curiosity and the damn Hippocratic oath prevented him from just watching Tritter die to see what progression the disease would take. At least he didn't look comfortable.

"Is it true?" Wilson asked from behind him. Wilson came to stand beside him and looked in at Tritter.

"Fever, rash, stomach issues, and headaches. I'm having him tested for drugs, STDs, and allergies, and it's rather fun," House said. Wilson huffed and shrugged.

"Did you take him so you could stand there and watch him squirm while you treat him?" Wilson asked.

"You have to admit, it does have a certain amusing quality to it," House answered.

"Didn't he originally come to you with a rash?" Wilson asked.

"Like I remember. I probably couldn't have told you while I was examining him, either, though, so I don't know if that counts," House answered. Then he paused, frowning. Tritter was shifting a little, obviously uncomfortable. Good.

"Was it a rash?" he asked. Wilson shrugged.

"Tritter said he's been having these issues 'for years'. I thought he was exaggerating, but maybe he wasn't," House continued, staring in at the cop thoughtfully.

"Gee, I wish you would look at me like that again," Wilson joked. A nurse brushed passed them to check on Tritter. House watched her.

"Looking at her like that is ok, isn't it?" House asked. Wilson shrugged.

"Tell Cuddy to keep the hot nurses out of Tritter's room. I want him to suffer," House said. Wilson snickered. The nurse, a cute little Asian girl with a nice ass, did a double take at Tritter's temperature.

"I assume he has a fever. Fever plus what looks like mild pain, over long periods of time equals what?" House mumbled to himself. Tritter was now shifting more, tossing the sheet aside. The nurse darted for the door. House opened it for her and heard Tritter let loose a low groan. The nurse almost ran face-first into him.

"Dr. House, he's got a temperature of 104 and…_look_," she said. She looked slightly pale.

"What?" House growled, shoving her aside and entering the room. Tritter's face was draining of color.

"House…what is wrong with my feet?" Tritter gasped. House frowned and yanked the sheet aside. Tritter's feet were normal.

"Nothing, you moron!" House snapped. The nurse motioned higher. Tritter grunted in pain. Frown deepening, House moved the sheets aside. Tritter's legs were covered in an ugly, purplish legion.

"Is it the rash that hurts?" he asked.

"No, it's my feet! They feel like they're being broken bit by bit," Tritter snarled.

"Was this here before?" House asked, motioning to the purple stippling across Tritter's legs. Tritter shook his head and gasped again in pain.

"How bad is the pain?" House asked.

"How bad do you _think_ it is, House!" Tritter bellowed.

"Well, since I _know_ how much you dislike painkillers, I don't want to give you any unless I'm sure you need them. I don't think the pain is all that bad, so…" House said meanly. Tritter made an attempt to lunge at House, but the nurse and the pain restrained him back to the bed as Thirteen entered the room.

"House, what are you doing?" she asked. Tritter let out a strangled cry of pain and pushed towards House hard enough to knock the nurse off her feet. House turned on his heel and began to leave.

"House!" Thirteen and the nurse shouted in unison.

"Oh, stop, I wasn't really going to leave. Give him a good shot of morphine for that twitch. Or better yet, why don't we give him some Vicodin?" he chuckled over his shoulder. He turned the corner and almost knocked Cuddy over. She was glaring at him.

"What _are_ you doing? You're withholding treatment?" she hissed.

"No, of course not! I want to do lots of gross, invasive, and impressively cool tests on our new little monkey! And he wouldn't tell me how bad the pain was, so I didn't know what to do, give him an aspirin, leave him alone, or give him morphine!" House replied.

"Well, do you know what he has yet so we can get him out of here? I want to be able to sleep at night, knowing he's gone!" Cuddy said. House shrugged.

"I don't want him here anymore than you do, really. Aside from how fun it is to watch him squirm in pain, I'm not directly responsible for the pain, so it's not as enjoyable as it should be," House answered. "No, I don't know yet, and you probably wouldn't accept it if I said he just has the flu and we should give him some penicillin and send him away?" Cuddy huffed in exasperation and stomped off down the hall. House stared after her. The fact that he really didn't know what it was bothered him a 

little, and not just because it would get Tritter out of the hospital and out of his life again if he figured it out.

"What about Cobb's Syndrome? Accounts for the rash?" Kutner suggested an hour later.

"No, that doesn't come with the pain, GI issues, or the fever," House answered. "And he's too old."

"Fabry's?" Thirteen asked.

"Once again, he's too old," Taub said. As the team continued to argue House's beeper went off. He cocked an eyebrow at what he read on the display. He turned and added it to the whiteboard. The team stopped abruptly to read what he'd written.

"Lymphedema?" Taub asked.

"Yep. Apparently, his right leg was a tad swollen and no one noticed it until we took a closer look at the rash and noticed the size difference," House said.

"Well, doesn't the lymphedema explain everything? The fatigue, the fever, and the added stress from the slight weight difference could explain the GI problems if we want to dig at it," Kutner suggested.

"Doesn't explain the rash, though. That rash bugs me," House replied. His pager went off again, as did the rest of the teams'.

"Well, looks like we can add yet one more thing. Tritter's having a heart attack," House muttered.


	3. Toccata & Fugue in D Minor

Sorry so short, but I had to get something down or the story was never going to progress. And there is a small reference in here to my other fic, _Game Set Match_. If you don't get it and/or don't want to read the other fic, just pass it off as just osmeone House knew.

* * *

This was still bugging him, although House wasn't sure if it was because he couldn't figure it out or if he didn't like having Tritter around. He was pacing in his apartment now, feeling the need to apologize to his piano for his awful behavior. Nothing below a low _forte'_, and had even thrown in a few bars of Bach's _Toccata & Fugue In D Minor**,**_ in honor of Tritter. Although House realized that particular tune lost a bit of its appeal if not played on the organ. Still, he was good enough to make it sound good. There was a knock on the door.

"I'm apologizing to my piano, get out!" he shouted. To his shock, the door swung open.

"You gave me a key years ago and I never gave it back," Wilson said, letting himself in.

"Well, then give it back now," House said. Wilson ran his hand over the piano.

"Poor fella, what's he been doing to you?" he asked it. House glared at him.

"That Tritter ass is bothering the hell out of me. I apologize already and I'll have it retuned at the end of the week as an 'I'm sorry' present. What the hell comes with rash, heart attack, lymphedema, and being an obsessive jerk?" House grumbled.

"Well, now that he has a bum leg…"

"I hate you!" House popped a few pills.

"You've been taking a lot of those lately," Wilson said.

"Tritter can't do anything about it anymore. And my leg hurts a lot," House replied.

"You're taking more meds just to spite him?" Wilson gasped incredulously.

"No. I'm taking more meds because he bugs the hell out of me. Didn't we already cover this? And why are you here? Get out!" House snapped.

"I wanted to see how you were holding up. The last time we encountered Tritter wasn't a whole lot of fun. Then there was…" Wilson trailed off.

"_Julia_ has nothing to do with it," House muttered irritably. "She's dead."

"I'm sorry," Wilson said, very quietly. House shrugged and turned away.

"Either way, I don't know if I'm just not coming up with the answer because I don't want to, or if I'm just stuck," he said.

"Well, he's stable right now?"

"For now, but his heart is over-taxed and won't last much longer if we don't figure out what's wrong with him. He's got a fever that's about to broil his brain like an over-done lobster and…" he trailed off.

"Oh great, did you just have one of your…" Wilson began, as House shoved by him and raced out the door. Wilson sighed.

"It's raining! Let me drive you!" he shouted after the hobbling doctor, only to discover House was already sitting in Wilson's car.

"Come _on_, Pokey!" House demanded. Wilson sighed and proceeded to drive House to the hospital.


End file.
